


The Boss: Epilogue

by LanceTheFuckerTucker



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 70's Avengers AU, 70's bucky barnes, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-16 00:47:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanceTheFuckerTucker/pseuds/LanceTheFuckerTucker
Summary: Your new life in Los Angeles with Bucky comes under threat when the ghosts from your past come back to haunt you both. Faced with a new set of difficult decisions, you and Bucky can't help but fall back into your old habits.This follows on fromthis here series.





	1. Nothing Lasts Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone. This follows on from [this here series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/638312), hope you enjoy! I'll be uploading another two parts to this epilogue and then the story finishes forever (sob!). I've LOVED writing this fic and it'll always hold a very special place in my heart. Enjoy!

Your life in Los Angeles quickly began to unravel. You always knew that your past would catch up with you eventually, shattering the peace you had found. But nothing could prepare you for the chilling news you received from back home.

It was a Friday afternoon in mid November. One of the rare days when you and Bucky found yourselves together, off work and enjoying each other's company in more ways than one. You had Bucky's usually imposing frame pinned to the bed as your hips rolled tauntingly against his, his cock slipping between your slick folds, making him beg. He was completely at your mercy with his arms tied securely around the slats on the bed frame. You delighted in seeing him like this. Teased to the point where he could barely look at you for fear of coming too soon.

"Please," he gasped, trying to bury his face into the pillow.

You laughed, keeping up the movement. "What do you want, Buck?”

"I want your tight little cunt," he groaned.

"You're gonna have to try a little harder to convince me," you cooed, allowing your hands to roam through the hair on his chest.

Bucky bit his lip. His eyes darkened. “Quit teasing and fuck me, doll.”

Just as you were about to sink yourself down on his cock and offer him release, a loud rap on the door ripped you from your lust fuelled haze. Bucky sighed in frustration. 

You climbed off of him and untied the rope around his wrists. "I'll get the door. You stay there; I'm not done with you yet," you winked, throwing on your crimson bathrobe. 

As you padded down the hall, you could make out two figures standing on the other side of the frosted glass panels on the door. One was taller than the other. A man and a woman. You undid the lock and opened it. 

There, standing on your doorstep, was Steve and Peggy. Two figures from your past that you would rather forget. Unable to form words to express your lasting anger at them sending you away, you stood silently, waiting for them to explain their sudden presence, eyes darting between them. 

Steve bowed his head; he couldn't meet your gaze.

Peggy was the first to speak. “Hi, darling. Can we come in? It's urgent."

You could hear Bucky's booming footsteps making their way down the hall. Then you felt him behind you, chest pressed against your back, breath against your neck.

"What the fuck are you two fucks doing here?" Bucky growled, his arm now snaking around your waist protectively.

Steve tore his eyes away from the ground, now fixing them on Bucky. "It's about the night she shot Stark. They're reopening the case,” Steve explained, looking concerned. "I'm sorry, Buck."

"And I suppose you fucking ratted us out?" Bucky hissed. 

It was catching up on you now. The horror of being the one who shot Tony Stark. The paranoia of being found out. The panic of seeing the two people who sent you away three years ago, forcing you to the other side of the country. You ripped yourself from Bucky's grasp and ran towards the bathroom, the acid rising from your gut. You locked the door and slumped to the floor. You couldn't even cry. You just sat there and trembled. 

Back at the door, Steve and Peggy were trying to convince Bucky that they were somehow unconnected to the net that was slowly closing in around himself and his wife. He still hadn't forgiven the pair of them for sending you away while he was in the hospital or for splitting you two up for so long.

"Bucky, one of Stark's men, James Rhodes, came to see us the other night. He has a witness," Peggy said, almost pleadingly. 

Usually, Bucky Barnes could always find the words in even the worst of situations, but right now, he had none. James Rhodes was Stark's right-hand man. Powerful and rarely seen, being muscle was out of his remit. He was calculating and tactical. And Bucky knew that whatever he knew, it would sink both you and him. All he could do was usher Steve and Peggy inside.

The three of them filed into the living room. Two chesterfield sofas stood on opposite sides of a brass coffee table with a glass top. Steve and Peggy took one, framing themselves against the backdrop of the city below, and Bucky took the other, his back to the door. Bucky didn't offer them a drink or a smoke. They wouldn't be staying long. He eyed the pair. 

Peggy looked to Steve to continue explaining the situation to Bucky.

"We have a plan, Buck,” Steve began. 

Bucky couldn't help it, the words spewed from his mouth like bile. Angry and scathing, with nothing else left to give. "Just like your last fucking plan?"

"I supposed you would have preferred it if she stuck around and got sent to prison straight away?" Peggy snapped. 

"You could have at least asked her where she planned on going. It took me a goddamn year to find her!" he said, his voice escalating to a roar, knocking Steve and Peggy back in their seats. 

"We couldn't risk-" Steve interjected, only to be shot down again by Bucky.

"Bull. Shit. Everyone, everyone we surrounded ourselves with back in the day were a bunch of poker-faced, stone-cold liars. We could have covered for her. But you fucking washed your hands of the best thing that ever happened to me. What? Was it too much work for you to tell a few lies?" 

Bucky had finally found words, although probably not the best ones. His onslaught lasted five whole minutes before Steve and Peggy's eyes were diverted from Bucky to your figure in the doorway.

After spending what felt like an eternity throwing up in the bathroom, the sickness ceased long enough for you to scramble to your feet and make your way to the source of the commotion. Despite your stomach churning, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride that even after all this time, Bucky was still just as fiercely protective over you.

When you arrived at the living room, Bucky was on his feet and pacing, still bellowing at Steve and Peggy. You glared at the two of them. In your mind, they were the ones who ruined every chance at happiness you ever had. 

Every head in the room was facing towards you but Steve was the first to utter a word.

"Look, in hindsight, I know what we did was awful, and you and Bucky are never gonna forgive us. I know. But it was the only way to make sure you were safe." His tone was measured, perhaps even sympathetic.

But Bucky was having none of it. He whipped his head back to his childhood friend. "Don't you dare talk to her," he hissed, unreasonable, vicious and almost feline in the way he stalked slowly across the floor. 

"Bucky," you said quietly and as soothingly as you could. As much as you were overcome with panic, the only way to get those two to leave was to listen to them first. You sat down across from them.

"You're not gonna listen to them, are you?" Bucky said, jabbing his hand through the air in their direction.

"Sit down, Bucky," you said.

Just like that, he defeatedly threw himself down beside you like a petulant child and raised his eyebrows at Steve and Peggy. "What's your fucking plan then?" he asked, almost mockingly.

Peggy sat up straighter. "Luis knows a great lawyer..."

Bucky threw his hand up to silence her. "No fucking way. You think we wanna drag this through the fucking courts?" 

"I don't see what else you can do," she retorted. 

"Rhodes says he has a witness," Steve agreed. 

"He could be bluffing," Bucky said.

Steve and Peggy looked at each other. 

"Bucky, just hear us out," Peggy urged. 

Steve drew a line under the conversation: "he's not gonna listen to us, Peg. Come on, let's get outta here."

"Good," Bucky said through gritted teeth.

Steve and Peggy got up and made their way towards the door. Just as Peggy was about to pass you, she stopped. "We'll be in town over the next few days," she began, her hand diving into the pocket of her royal blue coat and pulling out a crumpled piece of paper.

You took it from her and looked her in the eye. "What's this?"

"It's the address of the hotel we're in if you want to talk, maybe get the name of the lawyer Luis can put you in touch with."

You narrowed your eyes. That was her cue to leave. 

Alone once more with Bucky, you felt at ease. As much as you could be, given the circumstances. Both of you seemed to have been holding your breath during Steve and Peggy's visit. You looked at each other, waiting for some idea of what to do next. Bucky had form in these types of predicaments, but that was only when he worked alone, years before you wandered into the gutter that was his life. You, on the other hand, were far more stubborn, courageous and decisive than Bucky ever was, in Bucky's humble opinion. You danced contemplatively around each other in silence as minutes ticked by. But neither of you had an answer. 

You went to bed that night, as Bucky left for work, still not knowing. 

At 5am, Bucky came home. He knew what needed to be done. 

He quietly took a beer from the fridge and made his way to the balcony, trying not to wake you. One of his favourite things to do was watch the city below slowly becoming bathed in a dewy glow. It helped him think. Sometimes he thought about his old life, other times it was about the woman who lay, fast asleep, in his bed and how lucky he was that she was there. 

He liked it here.

At 6am, you woke up. Just like you did every Saturday morning. You always cooked Bucky breakfast at the weekend - he would be tired, fresh from work and in no fit state to cook for you. But today was different. He wasn't in his usual spot in the lounger on the balcony, in just his underwear, resting his eyes. He was awake and hunched over, still wearing the burgundy suit he wore to work last night, as he looked out on to the landscape.

He didn't move, even as you made no secret of approaching him. But he sighed contentedly when you wrapped your arms around him.

"Please tell me yesterday was a nightmare," you murmured against his back.

You felt him laugh. "I'm sorry, kiddo, it was real. We're in a whole lotta shit now."

"Fuck," you hissed.

He turned around and looked down at you. "But I have a plan."


	2. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky comes up with a plan to deal with Steve and Peggy's revelation and he makes them an offer. Refusal is not an option.

Bucky's plan was simple: James Rhodes, along with his witness if there was one, had to die. 

It was typical of Bucky, you thought when he told you. If there was no way out, he took out anyone who stood in his way. But regardless of the plan’s seemingly simple nature, it still filled you with questions. Would you need to go home? What happened if anyone found out why you were there? Who, ultimately, would be the one doing the killing? Bucky, of course, withheld these details. 

At 10am, you and Bucky bundled into his dark green Mustang to see Steve and Peggy. Bucky hadn't slept a wink since he got home from work, so you drove. You didn't mind, actually, it took your mind off your nerves that threatened to snap at any moment if you didn't find something else to focus on. 

They were staying just ten minutes away at the Roosevelt. In a room on the twelfth floor. 

Peggy looked surprised to see you both when she answered the door, still in her bathrobe and her hair in rollers, a cigarette dangling from her ruby red lips. But she was friendly. "Come in!" she said, eyes wide, standing aside to allow you and Bucky to pass her. 

Steve was fastening the buttons on a navy blue shirt, looking straight into the mirror on the wardrobe door, seemingly unaware of your arrival. 

"Darling," Peggy said.

Steve turned around to face you both. He gave you both a look of indifference. "I suppose you're here about Rhodes," he said.

You nodded and Bucky cleared his throat. "Sit down," he said, "I know what we're doing. You too, Peg."

You took your place in the far corner of the room, next to the window, folding your arms. Steve and Peggy sat beside each other on the end of the king bed that was much too large for the room. 

Bucky began to pace in front of you all, commanding your unwavering attention. Finally, he looked towards the ceiling and thrust his hands into the pockets of his burgundy suit, carefully trying to choose his words for maximum impact. 

"See," Bucky began, turning his head to Steve and Peggy, still pacing, "I don't like what either of you did. Sending my girl away, not even helping me find her... and then you have the audacity to come back into our lives... But I figured you still, somewhere inside you both, you're still loyal to me. Tell me, Steve, are you?"

Steve nodded, brow furrowed in confusion.

"How 'bout you, Peg?"

Peggy nodded.

Bucky turned his body to them now, his pacing ceased. He clasped his hands together for effect. "Well, I'd like to test that theory."

Steve and Peggy looked at each other confused. 

Bucky smirked: "You say Rhodes has a witness? Well I want you to be the ones to find that witness. I want you to find Rhodes. Then I want you to bring them to me. Both of you."

You couldn't help but smile smugly at your husband as Steve and Peggy looked at him open mouthed. 

"What? You scared to get your hands dirty?" Bucky asked mockingly. "It wouldn't surprise me."

"What if we don't go along with this?" Peggy asked.

Bucky stuck his hand in the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out the revolver he kept there. Slowly and calmly, he pressed the barrel against Peggy's temple, stroking her face with his other hand. Her breath hitched in her throat as she looked up at Bucky. 

"That would be a real shame, Peggy. You know I don't tolerate disloyalty," he said.

"Buck, you can't just intimidate people into doing your dirty work because you have a grudge," Steve piped up. 

Bucky turned his attention to Steve, two pairs of blue eyes locked together. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do, Stevie. See I'm not buying all this new found morality of your's. You're a coward, a fucking roach. And you'll do anything I ask if it means saving yourself."

Steve looked positively defiant as he stared at Bucky.

Eventually Bucky backed away, stowing his gun back in his pocket. He looked over to you and then headed for the door. You followed. 

"I'm giving you bastards 'til midnight. Let me know if you're in," Bucky said, training his gaze in front of him as he swaggered. He turned, poking his head back into the room, "I'll come find you, don't worry."

You and Bucky went back to the elevator arm in arm. You got inside, and the metal grate dinged closed. You stared at each other. 

"You think they'll do it?" you asked.

"They don't fuckin' have a choice," Bucky smirked, lighting a cigarette. 

"And you’re gonna kill them if they don't?" you asked, knowing that he wouldn't.

"They don't know that."

"I hope you're right, Bucky."

He leaned back against the wall and exhaled, sending smoke into the air above your head. A wicked smile played at the corners of his mouth. Of course he was right. He had a knack for anticipating other peoples' actions, including your own.

You and Bucky found yourselves back in the car at midnight, on your way to the Roosevelt once more. Well slept and having changed his clothes, he drove this time. He was still bold and self assured. He knew in his bones that Steve and Peggy would agree to the plan.

During the day, the pair of you decided to head back home to find Rhodes after your meeting with Steve and Peggy, regardless of whether they were in or not. After all, this aspect of your past had to stay buried by any means necessary. Your suitcases were packed, side by side, in the trunk. The hotel was just a detour for your longer trip to the airport.

The foyer of the Roosevelt was bustling at this time of night, shrouded in smoke that danced around the chandeliers as revellers flocked to the bar. The pair of you had to fight your way to the lift. You squeezed yourselves inside, chest to chest, Bucky's arms comfortingly wrapped around you. It was only then that you began to think of all the things that could go wrong with your impending meeting.

Bucky must have felt you tense up in his embrace. He pressed his lips to your forehead, kissing you gently, quietly asking you what was wrong. 

You looked up at him, "I'll tell you when we get out of here."

The journey to the twelfth floor was painfully slow, made worse by you torturing yourself with all of the potential worse case scenarios. You were probably paranoid. You resolved not to tell Bucky as you passed the eleventh floor. 

The grate slid open and you both exited. Bucky stopped, taking your hand and pulling you into him. He looked concerned. "You gonna tell me what's up, kiddo?" he asked.

"Nothing, I'm just tired," you fibbed. 

"Hm, I ain't buying it. Plus I'm gonna need you to bring your A-game if these two try to get the drop on us. Can't do that if you're miles away."

Good. He had thought of that too. "I'm just nervous in case they get nasty, you know?" you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his jaw. "It's nothing we haven't done before though."

Bucky kissed your forehead again and slid a pistol into your grasp. "I've got your back, but keep this just in case."

You pulled your head backwards to look at his face again. He smiled down at you.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" you said, stowing the gun in your coat pocket.

When you arrived at Steve and Peggy's room, Bucky knocked the door thrice and you waited. Hand in hand. When there was no answer, Bucky's brow furrowed and he knocked again, louder this time. "What the fuck are they playing at?" Bucky muttered.

You looked up at him. "Think they've gone on the run?"

"Well if they have, we're gonna have to find 'em," he said, his annoyance becoming more apparent in his tone. 

"C'mon, Buck, let's be on our way," you reasoned. 

"Gimme a sec," he said, backing up towards the opposite side of the hallway. "Get your gun out."

Bucky leapt forward, his solid frame was no match against the door. It opened instantly, clinging to its hinges. 

You stepped inside the room first, gun in your sweating hands in front of you. Bucky followed. Peggy's perfume gave it away. It hung fresh in the air, the scent of patchouli, roses and violets. 

When you were fully in the room, Peggy pounced on you from behind the door, dragging you to the floor by her weight on you. You managed to get on top of her. Your gun had fallen almost within her grasp so you kicked it away and began ferociously punching her until her blood coated your knuckles.

Bucky didn't intervene, he knew you could take her. Instead, he went looking for Steve. A better matched opponent. He was hiding at the other side of the bed, next to the window, ready to grab Bucky by the ankles and pull him to the floor. Steve quickly leapt to his feet, ready to kick Bucky in the gut. Luckily, Bucky kept hold of his revolver when he fell, swiftly planting a bullet in Steve's arm from his spot on the orange rug.

You and Peggy halted your scrapping when you heard the shot being fired and watched as Steve stumbled backwards, propping his weight against the window, his hand attempting to stem the flow from the wound. Bucky scrambled to his feet and pinned the gun to the underside of Steve's chin. You could see him shake with rage. 

"You're gonna come with us or I'll blow your fuckin' brains out," Bucky said through gritted teeth. 

That was your cue to get to your feet and grab your gun. You pointed it at Peggy who was still lying on the floor, out of breath and trying to mop up the blood trailing from her nose and the cut in her lip. 

"Get the fuck up," you said, trying to sound equally as vicious as Bucky.

She shot to her feet and lowered her gaze to the floor as you continue to train your aim on her. 

You turned your attention to Steve and Bucky. "Tie something around his arm, he's no good to us if he bleeds out," you said.

Bucky smiled at you when he realised how strategically you were thinking. It was a far cry from the way you were during the shoot out at Stark's mansion three years ago. You and Bucky operated like a well oiled machine now.

"Peg, tie his fuckin' arm," Bucky said, popping a cigarette in his mouth, "and don't try any shit."

Peggy moved slowly on shaking legs, maintaining eye contact with Bucky and under your watchful eye. She grabbed a thick green stocking and a cardigan from the set of mahogany drawers at the foot of the bed and tied the stocking firmly around Steve's bicep. She gave him the cardigan to press against the wound to stem the flow. Then she went back to her spot beside you. 

Bucky's eyes scanned each face in the room, then he sighed. "You two pack your shit, we're heading home tonight."

Steve and Peggy quickly got to work, throwing all of their belongings back into their suitcases that sat atop the chest of drawers. They were done in two seconds flat, looking nervously between you and Bucky for further instruction. 

You tucked your gun away in your jacket pocket and Bucky did the same. You couldn't risk being seen leading two people out, at gunpoint, of one of the city's busiest hotels. You made for the door first, leading Steve and Peggy, with Bucky following behind. 

The atmosphere in the lift was tense and thick as you silently eyed each other. Reaching the ground floor, you led the way through the crowd. No one bothered to turn their attention to the blood soaking one arm of Steve's shirt. They were all having too much of a good time to care. Arriving at the car, you got in the back. 

"Peggy, you'll get in here with me, Steve, you'll ride up front where Bucky can keep an eye on you," you ordered.

Then you went on your way home, the four of you.


	3. Layla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Bucky execute the plan to eradicate the last remaining threats to your happiness and your freedom. But do you both get your happily ever after?

Exiting the airport, the four of you bundled into Steve's blue Camaro. You pressed your gun to Peggy's temple, and Bucky did the same to Steve as he drove. Your next stop was Stark's mansion where Rhodes had taken up residency and continued to control Stark's empire.

The journey was quicker than you remembered it, which was just as well as the uncomfortable silence only added to your nerves. The car neared the outskirts of the city in a cool 50 minutes. The last time you had been here was the day that the four of you embarked on a dawn raid only to be ambushed. The day Bucky got that nasty scar on his shoulder. The day you killed Tony Stark on the roof of the hospital Bucky lay in. The last day of your old life. It sent a chill cutting through your body just seeing the building again.

The car jolted to a halt outside the recently erected iron gate. The four of you got out. Bucky pressed the barrel of his gun to the small of Steve's back and you followed his lead with Peggy, forcing the pair of them through the gate and up the path towards the towering, red, shiny door, complete with a heavy brass knocker.

Steve looked back at Bucky who simply prodded his gun against his back to urge him on. Steve knocked on the door without wasting a second.

Footsteps came trudging towards the other side of the door, then the lock was undone.

For just a split second, you had flashbacks of the ambush that ensued the last time you were here, making your stomach churn.

An unassuming man opened the door. Steve recognised him and for some reason, this seemed to put your mind, somewhat, at ease.

"Rhodes," Steve said.

The man's eyes darted between the group of people on the porch. He realised what this was about as soon as they came to rest on Bucky's face.

"I don't want any trouble," Rhodes quietly warned, opening the door further.

The four of you silently filed inside and followed him through the foyer, where the short lived shoot out occurred. Arriving at the study, decorated in reds and golds, Rhodes gestured for all of you to sit down. You looked at Bucky who never once ceased his scowling at Rhodes; he had no time for pleasantries. You knew he was here to kill someone. He plonked himself down on the sofa and so did you, with Steve and Peggy between you.

"I suppose you're all here about the night Stark died," Rhodes began, calmly sitting on the sofa opposite you all.

"Uh huh," Bucky sighed.

Rhodes smirked at Steve and Peggy.

You looked at Bucky, confused.

"I suppose you're wondering who this new witness is," Rhodes said.

You narrowed your eyes.

"You should be the ones to tell 'em," Rhodes nodded at Steve and Peggy.

Steve cleared his throat, his cheeks flushed. You knew that whatever he was about to spit out was difficult for him. "You see, Buck, you didn't sell the club.”

Bucky nodded, "yup. And your fuckin' point is?”

"We couldn't sell it unless you came back," Peggy piped up.

Bucky whipped his head towards Peggy. "And why the fuck would you want to do that?”

"Well, we're pretty hard up, Buck," Steve reasoned, seemingly realising the mistake he had made.

"So you wanted us out the picture. I suppose you wanted to put me away for good this time, get Bucky nabbed too. Only way you could get us back was to threaten us with Rhodes," you said.

All the while, Rhodes sat and smirked at what was happening before him.

Steve and Peggy lowered their heads, ashamed.

Bucky stood up, looking at you. "Well, kiddo, at least they've brought us to Rhodes. I say we finish the job," he said, smiling. Then he turned his attention towards Steve and Peggy, darting his gun between them. "You two are gonna kill Rhodes, tie him up, put a fuckin' bullet in the bastard. Then we'll talk."

Rhodes rose to his feet but you were swift, shooting him in the leg and disabling him. Bucky winked at you.

Upon hearing the shot fired, Steve and Peggy scurried. Steve began heaving Rhodes back on to his lavish desk chair, trailing blood across the crisp white rug.

Peggy, on the other hand, rifled through each drawer in the grand, mahogany desk beside the window. Eventually, she found a ball of letter string along with a set of scissors. She held it up, looking at Bucky: "Will this do?”

Bucky just chuckled, growing tired of the situation.

She got to work in restraining Rhodes' arms and legs until he was unable to writhe free. She was, indeed, an expert at tying knots.

Bucky walked over to Peggy, wrapping one, thick, muscular arm around her waist and lining the barrel of his gun up against her cheek. He looked at you.

"Give Steve your gun, kiddo. Wouldn’t want to inflict that kind of emotional trauma on this one,” he said almost manically.

"Buck," Steve attempted to reason, raising his hands.

"Would you rather I put a bullet in your broad, Stevie?" Bucky sneered through gritted teeth.

Steve took the pistol from you in a shaking hand and pointed it at Rhodes who looked at him, pleading for mercy. But they weren't the only ones dreading the situation at hand. Your mind raced to all the potential outcomes of the situation, having just handed possibly the second most deadly person in the room a loaded gun. You backed away from Steve.

Bucky jabbed the barrel of his gun against Peggy's head again. "Fuckin' do it, Steve."

Steve looked over his shoulder at Peggy and then turned his attention back to Rhodes. Then he gave an audible sigh. It happened in an instant. A bullet to Rhodes' head and he was finished.

Bucky was quicker though, turning the barrel of his gun from Peggy's head to Steve's back, dropping his once best friend and sending your pistol clattering to the floor. He was still but very much, alive. Aware too. But Bucky wanted to make him suffer.

Peggy let out a blood-curdling scream, her jaw practically on the floor. "Please!" she screeched, wrestling against Bucky’s grasp, ”he did as you asked! Let us go!”

You wandered over to the pistol that lay just inches from Steve's grasp. You picked it up and turned towards Peggy. Her eyes were awash with fear. "Sorry, Peggy, no can do," you muttered, aiming at her. It almost killed you to do it, but it was a necessary evil. You couldn't risk jeopardising your happiness and stability once again. All evidence had to be destroyed. You closed your eyes and squeezed the trigger.

Even after you heard Peggy's body hit the floor, you couldn't look at her directly. You lowered your gun, seeing her from from the corner of your eye, and fired three more shots, just to make sure she was dead.

By now, Steve was just clinging on to life, staring blankly at his girlfriend's dead body.

It all became too much for you. You dropped your gun and ran from the house. Two more shots were fired as you sat down on the porch. You couldn't help but break down when you heard them, knowing how difficult it must have been, even for Bucky to have been the one pulling the trigger.

Bucky's footsteps echoed through the hall of Stark's mansion; you heard him before you saw him. Then you felt his presence beside you. Warm and serene, Bucky didn't seem to have a care in the world, confident in the knowledge that the wrongs of both of your pasts had died with Steve and Peggy just moments ago.

Stark's mansion looked out on to a quiet street. All you heard were birds and the low drone of the city in the distance as the sun flew high in the sky. It was a gorgeous day. And you couldn't bring yourself to make a sound as your teary eyes became glued to Steve's Camaro. An eternity seemed to pass before the words involuntarily tumbled from your mouth.

"What now?" you asked, turning to Bucky, who was also looking at the blue pony car on the other side of the gate.

He draped his arm around your shoulders reassuringly. "We go off and we live.”

"Feels weird," you said, burrowing your face into the collar of his coat.

He kissed your head. “What?"

"Not having to look over my shoulder," you admitted.

"You know, I'm proud of you. I remember when you first came into my office back at the old club. Do you remember? You'd never have hurt a fly," he half laughed.

Instead of attempting to cheer you up, Bucky's remark only served to remind you that it was him who made you like that and if you truly were to get your happily ever after, you needed to know his old ways were behind him. "Are you done being a cold blooded killer?”

Bucky let go of your shoulders and turned to face you, a worried look on his face. He ran his fingertips over your cheek, leaning into you, nose to nose. “Forever."

Bucky was a man of his word and you knew that. You believed him. Saying no more on the matter, you heaved yourself up. The happenings of the day seemed to add decades to your body, at least it felt that way, as every inch of you ached as you found your balance. You grabbed Bucky's hand and lead him down the pathway and out of the gate. You collected your suitcases from the trunk of Steve's Camaro and went on your way, away from Stark's mansion forever.

"How do you feel about kids?" you blurted, curiosity getting the better of you as you walked leisurely down the street. You knew it was hardly the time or the place, but the one thing that had stopped you and Bucky from starting a family before was no longer there. Your past couldn't come back to haunt you anymore.

Bucky whipped his head around, a softness written all over his features. "You're not..." he began.

You beamed and shook your head.

"Because if you were... I mean, I know my old man wasn't exactly father of the century but..."

"I'm not.”

"Ok, but it wouldn't be a bad thing if you were. I'm getting on a little and I kinda think it's about time... you know…"

It was a rare occurrence; James Buchanan Barnes, wittering nervously at the mention of babies. It was only then that you realised that that was exactly what you wanted. "Soon. But for now, I feel like a vacation. I think we've earned it," you mused.

"Well I'm sure as fuck not taking you to Paris again," Bucky joked, "where do you wanna go?”

"I don't know... I've always liked the idea of London.”

"London it is.”

* * *

 

London was everything you had hoped it would be. Everything from the music and they style, to the people and the accents. The accent, in your opinion, was to die for. You and Bucky were carefree at last; even more than either of you were in those first few days you spent together back in Paris before it all went to hell. The anonymity London offered you both spurred you on to try new drugs, new thrills and new sexual escapades. Neither of you had felt so alive. More than that, you were ready to truly embark on a life together. Now that the last of your wild streaks were out of your systems. The dynamic had shifted once more and now you were level-headed and you were equals.

You arrived back in Los Angeles to the news that your boss, Mr Jenkins had died. You were the only employee at the record store and he had no family, so the store was left to you in his will. You were your own boss and took great pleasure in the freedom it offered you. Bucky was also free to come and go as he pleased, spending even more time dancing around the tall stacks of records with you to the tunes of the day. When the time came to turn the record over, Bucky frequently dragged you into the back room for a 'quick break', much to your protests. That was probably part of the reason the place never made much money, owing to you having to close the store twice a day. But it was your pride and joy.

Of course, all the fucking you two did led to one other thing. The birth of your daughter. Exactly one year from when you and Bucky ended the lives of Steve and Peggy, 'Layla' arrived. Bucky insisted on that particular name. It was the song that played in his office when you first walked into Legs, all those years ago, as a naive and nervous nineteen year old. You remembered that exact moment when you first met like it was yesterday as he lay next to you and recalled the whole thing with your daughter fast asleep in his arms. 

Fatherhood had an unexpected effect on your husband who spent each and every day doting on you both. When the time came for you to return to work at your record store, Bucky would bring Layla over, along with your lunch, and play her all of his favourite records until it was time for him to head to the club. 

Speaking of the club, he insisted on renovating it just days after Layla was born. He set his minions to work, informing them that the place would no longer be a sleazy strip joint. It was degrading to women, he reasoned. Instead, he turned the bar into a comedy club, in line with the plethora of comedy clubs popping up all over the city that you frequented together when you both could find the time. He called the club 'Layla's'. Very quickly, it gained a reputation for fostering the finest young talent the city had to offer and when Layla was old enough to talk, she was in on the act too, announcing each of the evening's acts and melting the hearts of her audience. Bucky swore that one day, Layla was going to be a star. 

* * *

 

You could have sworn Bucky was a changed man until Layla's seventeenth birthday, when she brought home a boy called Peter Parker. 

That particular meeting was the only time in almost twenty years you saw Bucky quietly seethe like he used to. You knew he wouldn't harm the boy, but his mere presence was threatening enough to earn him terrified looks from Peter. Sitting around the dinner table in uncomfortable silence, Bucky's eyes were dark as he eyeballed the scrawny young man who was busy telling you about his love of science and technology, and his fascination for all things retro. He was delighted to find out that you owned a record store, rattling off all the merits of vinyl over cassettes. He seemed like such a sweetheart in comparison with your daughter, who had proved to have just as big of a personality as Bucky did. You almost felt sorry for the young boy.

When Bucky had had enough of listening to you grill Peter, he raised a hand to halt the conversation. "Peter, can we talk in private?"

You and Layla looked at each other, shocked but attempting to accept the inevitable.

Bucky and Peter got up from the dinner table and wandered through to the living room. 

That poor, poor boy had no idea what he was really letting himself in for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the final ever part of The Boss! Hope you all enjoyed!


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